Amy, inspired in part by the old Pure Prairie League song
by Lizziekat15
Summary: I wanted to write about Daryl's childhood, explore how that shaped who he became. This is a loooong preamble before we even get to the zombie apocalypse. It's still in progress, I hope you enjoy the opening chapters. As always, helpful hints are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Amy-inspired by Pure Prairie League song from the 70's

Amy, what you wanna do?

I think I could stay with you

For a while, maybe longer, if I do

Amy Taylor-her grandparents live on the same gravel road as Daryl and Merle Dixon, just outside the small town of Hickory, GA in the country. Amy's parents live in town, and Amy often spends the weekends with her grandparents. Her grandparents have horses, and the Dixon boys frequently come down to Amy's grandparents house to help her grandfather with chores around the small farm in exchange for food or a little money. Amy's grandparents feel sorry for the little boys-their father is a drunken bully, rarely working at any job long enough to decently support the family. Their mother works at the shoe factory in town to support the family but as time goes on she too begins to drink more often.

Daryl is two years older than Amy, and even at a young age seems to dote on her. She is the oldest of eventually three siblings, and is the obvious favorite of her grandparents. Although she is spoiled in the way of material things, she is a sweet child and seemingly fond of Daryl, oftentimes following him around the farm as he does his chores. Amy is small even for her age, with auburn curls and wide brown eyes and freckles.

When she is five, Amy's grandmother finds Amy and Daryl in the barn kissing. Her grandmother is horrified, yells at Daryl to go on home and don't come back until Mr. Taylor talks to him. As Daryl runs across the field toward his ramshackle house, he hears Amy's grandmother scolding Amy. "Don't you have anything to do with that Dixon boy ever again," he hears her saying, "the Dixons are trash. You can feel sorry for them, and try to help them, but you are not to be friends with them and you certainly don't go around kissing them in barns. Those boys are born troublemakers, and a boy like that will ruin your name." He stopped and hid behind a tree, peeking around the trunk to see what Amy was doing. He saw she was crying and stomping her foot. He heard her protesting to her grandmother.

"But Daryl is my friend," she insisted, stomping her foot again. About that time he saw her grandmother strike Amy with a switch she had pulled from a tree. His mouth fell open in shock. He had never seen anyone lay a hand on Amy, or raise their voice for that matter. All the Taylors were kind, and spoke in quiet, calm voices to each other. Nothing like his family, where there was constant yelling, arguing and the constant threat of physical violence from his father, more so when he'd been drinking.

At the first strike of the switch, he saw Amy was so surprised her little mouth had dropped open and she had put her little hand over her bottom. The second strike hit her across the arm and hand and Amy began screaming a blood curdling scream. Daryl clenched his fists, but dared not go back and try to stop Amy's grandmother. He knew trying to stop an adult from beating someone was useless, it usually resulted in everyone getting beaten.

Daryl watched silently, biting his thumb and pulling the skin off nervously as Amy's grandmother gave her three more strikes all while Amy kept up a blood curdling scream. When Amy tried to jerk away her grandmother had grabbed her shoulder roughly and shaken her. When Amy's grandmother had finally stopped hitting Amy had jerked away from her hold and run crying back to the house. Daryl slid back behind the tree quickly so Mrs. Taylor didn't see that he'd been watching. After holding his breath a minute, he peeked back around the trunk and saw Mrs. Taylor walking toward the house. He let out his breath and trotted toward home. He knew he'd never see Amy again. He felt bad she had gotten a whipping because of him. It had been his idea to play hide and seek in the barn, and it had been him that had kissed her. She had been surprised at first and giggled, and then she had thrown her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe, and kissed him back. That was when her grandmother had shown up. He was sure Amy would hate him now. He sighed and instead of going straight home, he headed toward a copse of trees in the next field. Merle and he had built a sort of treehouse from scraps of wood they'd scavenged and sometimes if his daddy was in a particularly bad mood, he and Merle would spend the night in the trees.

He climbed up to the little platform they'd built and laid down to study the clouds through the leaves of the trees. His chest felt tight and it hurt to breathe, but he wasn't going to cry. Merle called him a pussy and a sissy all the time because he cried when their daddy hit him. Merle hadn't cried in a long time-and that just seemed to make their daddy angrier and he would hit Merle harder. But Merle wouldn't give in. He had seen the scarring on Merle's back from the beatings. Sometimes he'd beg Merle to cry so their daddy would stop, but Merle would stubbornly shake his head and stay quiet. Lately, after a beating, Merle would run off for hours. Daryl had looked in the treefort, but Merle wasn't always there. When he next appeared, he wouldn't tell Daryl where he'd been but sometimes he had candy, once or twice he'd had cigarettes. Daryl was afraid he was stealing, and worried about what would happen if Merle got caught. Sighing, Daryl closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Daryl woke with a start. Looking around he realized he'd spent the better part of the afternoon asleep in the tree. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. The sun was low in the horizon, although in the summer nightfall didn't come until about 9. He guessed it was about suppertime, and his stomach growled loudly. He hadn't eaten since Amy's grandmother had fed him a sandwich shortly before she had caught he and Amy kissing. He knew more than likely there would be no dinner at home, and since it was a Saturday and his mom had the day off she would be drinking right along with his dad. She didn't get mean when she drank, instead she got more quiet than usual and often fell asleep while smoking and he worried that one day she'd burn the house down with all of them in it.

Daryl climbed down from the tree and stretched. He didn't want to go home, he was hungry but had no idea what to do about that. He looked up and started. Across the field ran Amy toward the copse of trees he was standing in. He stood there, silently watching her as she came closer. He saw she had a little basket with her. She ran up to him breathlessly and smiled.

"Amy," Daryl started. "I didn't mean to cause ya any trouble. I'm sorry your gramma whipped ya cuz of me," he looked down and scuffed his bare feet in the dirt. Amy held out the basket toward him.

"Here ya go," she said brightly. He looked up and took the basket.

"What is it?" he asked. She giggled.

"Well, look in it silly," she said. He pulled the little cloth off the top and saw fried chicken and rolls and some corn on the cob. His mouth fell open a little and his stomach growled louder.

"Um, thanks Amy. Is this for me?" he turned red in embarrassment. She nodded eagerly. "Won't ya get in trouble?" he asked. He would rather go hungry than cause her any more trouble.

"No," she said firmly. "I told my daddy what gramma did and he was mad. They started arguing-I've never heard daddy raise his voice to anyone, but he sure did to gramma. Then granddaddy came in and he started talking loud to both of them. Daddy and granddaddy looked at my hands and legs and gramma cried and said she was so sorry. But she said it to them, not me," Amy paused and frowned. "She said she didn't want me to be like my momma. I thought Daddy was gonna fall out when she said that. They all got real loud, so I snuck into the kitchen and got you some food and brought it out here to ya," she finished, looking proud of herself. Daryl nodded slowly. Amy hadn't said they had told her it was alright for her to talk to him or to bring him anything to eat. She had decided that for herself. He was worried when she got back she would be in worse trouble.

"Look, Amy. I 'preciate ya bringing me supper. But I don't want to get ya in any more trouble than I already have. If they tell ya not to talk to me, I understand." He tried to smile at her, but the thought of not ever talking to Amy hurt him inside. Amy shook her head and stomped her foot.

"No, Daryl Dixon, you are my friend. And no one is going to tell me that I can't talk to you. If they try to stop me and gramma tries to whip me, why I'll just run away and hide with you here." She shook her head vehemently, and her auburn curls bounced. Daryl bit his lip and sighed. Amy was only five, but he had seen from the time she was little that she was stubborn and high tempered. He didn't doubt what she said.

"Well, how bout this then," Daryl said, thinking quickly, "how bout you come see me out here in the trees when you think you can without getting in trouble? I'll stay away from the farm so you don't get in trouble there." He frowned at her, wondering if this would get her into more trouble.

Amy nodded eagerly. "It'll be our secret," she whispered. Daryl nodded as well. Amy stepped over to him and reaching up kissed his cheek softly. "Ain't nobody can tell me I can't talk to you Daryl," she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

After that, Daryl kept his word and stayed away from the farm. Amy snuck to meet him as often as she could, and they would lie in the treehouse and watch the clouds and he would eat whatever food she had been able to sneak to him. When the summer ended, Amy started kindergarten and her mother brought home a little sister for her. Daryl only saw her on the weekends, and she stayed most every weekend since the new baby took up a lot of her mother's time. Daryl went to school at the country school, when he bothered to go. If his father had been particularly drunk and violent at night, Daryl would go spend the night and the next day in the treehouse. He rigged a tarp that he could pull over as a makeshift roof in case it rained. He scavenged some blankets and pillows to keep up there as well for when the weather turned cooler. His brother Merle, four years older than Daryl, had taken to running around with some older boys and was frequently in trouble for fighting. Daryl felt the only good thing he had in his life was his time he spent with Amy. She was so sweet, never scolded him and was always so cheerful when she saw him. They never mentioned that day in the summer when her gramma had whipped her, and they never kissed again except for Amy once in a while kissed him on the cheek when she would leave after visiting him in the copse.

As time passed, Daryl's home situation grew worse. The next year, when he was eight, his mother fell asleep while drinking and smoking and burned the house up with her in it. Merle went to juvenile detention for the first time and he was left alone with his father in a shack they had moved into just down the road a bit further. He took to staying in the tree house as often as he could, but his father had caught him off guard more than once and had beaten him badly a few times. Bad enough to leave bloody welts that eventually turned into scars. He hadn't passed second grade because of all the days he had missed, and instead of facing the shame of being left behind he had just stopped going to school altogether. Amy had brought him some books and on the weekends she visited they played school and she showed him what she'd learned in math and spelling. She also found books for him in the library about hunting and fishing and anything else to do with the outdoors. She brought him a book about what plants were safe to eat and what plants to avoid. She also took to bringing him clothes –she told him they had clothes drives at church and she would sneak some of the jeans and shirts out for him. Shoes were harder to come by, and he often went barefoot even in winter. This led to his feet becoming so calloused he could walk around in the roughest areas of the woods without much discomfort. He gradually perfected walking as quietly as possible in the woods and elsewhere so as not to draw attention to himself.

His brother Merle was in and out of juvie-he had moved on from shoplifting to hotwiring cars and then on to dealing drugs. He traveled with a rough group of boys, but also spent a lot of time by himself. The rare times he was home from juvie, he was just as cruel to Daryl as their father was. He bullied and teased Daryl mercilessly until Daryl would run off to the treehouse, but because Merle knew where that was Daryl had no respite. Eventually Daryl took to staying in the woods more and more, sleeping up in trees and rigging makeshift shelters under the lower hanging trees. He had found an old bow and arrow in someone's garage and taught himself how to use it. He found he was a natural at it, and kept himself from going hungry by eating squirrel and rabbit and sometimes possum.

He and Amy didn't see each other as often, because he was staying more and more in the woods but on the rare occasions he would go to the treehouse he often found notes from Amy hidden where Merle wouldn't find them. She hid clothes and books for him in another hiding place and sometimes she left boots for him as well. If it hadn't been for Amy's help, Daryl knew he'd never have survived out there alone. She was the only good thing in his life. He liked thinking of her at school, her pretty curls bouncing as she walked along the halls, giggling with her friends. Sometimes if she caught him at the copse, she would tell him about sleepovers she'd gone to or movies she'd seen or skating parties she'd gone to. He listened carefully when she talked about boys in her class or at parties she'd gone to, jealous that they could be seen with Amy and that they shared a world with her that he never could. She never expressed any interest that he could detect when she spoke of those boys and sometimes she would still kiss him on the cheek when she left and tell him he was her very best friend and always would be. He knew that one day she would stop coming to the treehouse, she would start liking some boy and she would be busy with that boy and their friends and she would forget about him. It hurt to think about, but he knew that was how it worked in this world. His family was trash, he was trash, and a good girl like Amy shouldn't bother with a boy like him. He was grateful for the time he had spent with her, and knew he would always have these happy memories of Amy even after she'd long forgotten him.

The years passed by, until the summer Amy was fifteen. By now she had a brother as well as her sister. Her father had taken a different job, one where he traveled a lot and Amy told him her parents had talked about moving away to a bigger city closer to where his office would be. She had cried when she told him. She didn't want to leave her friends, it was all she had ever known. She would be too far away to visit very often and she cried harder as she thought about it. Daryl had his arm around her shoulders, as she leaned against him crying. He bit his lip to keep from crying his own self. He was seventeen, and had spent the majority of the last ten years living on his own in the woods. Amy was his only real contact with other people, other than the few times he saw his dad or his brother Merle. Merle was in prison right now doing a short stretch for drugs. No telling when or if he would be home. Daryl's father started having the DTs so bad he'd had to be hospitalized a few times this last year. Daryl knew it was only a matter of time until his father was as dead as his mother. He would be all alone then. He sighed.

Amy looked up at him, hiccupping. "Daryl, I want to ask you to do something for me," she hesitated. "With me," she said shyly.

"Amy I'd do anything you asked me to," Daryl replied quickly. She smiled shyly up at him.

"Well, I want you to be.." she hesitated and turned pink.

"What is it?" he coaxed. He brushed her curls from her face so he could see her more clearly. She had turned into a beautiful girl and every time he saw her his breath caught and he wondered at his luck that she had ever thought he was worth the time and trouble to be with.

"I want you to be my first," she whispered, ducking her face against his shirt. He frowned. What was she talking about?

"Amy," he said softly, "what do you mean?" She mumbled against his shirt, and he couldn't make anything out of it. He pulled her face away from his shirt gently. "I don't understand what you're saying. What are you asking me?" Amy bit her lip and turned even more pink if that was possible. She cleared her throat.

"I want you to be my first….." she ducked her head a bit but he put his hand under her chin and pulled her face back up. Amy cleared her throat again. "I want you to be the first guy I'm with…."here she waved her hand over her in embarrassment. Daryl frowned. She couldn't possibly mean what he thought she meant.

"Amy, tell me straight out what it is you're asking me," he said gruffly. He was embarrassed. He himself had no experience in what he thought she was asking of him. And why was she asking him? She was only fifteen. What had brought this on?

Amy sighed and clenched her hands in her lap and looked down at them in embarrassment. "I think you know what I mean. I want…I want you to be the first person I have sex with," she blurted out quickly. Daryl straightened up and frowned.

"Ummm, why are you asking me that? You're only fifteen Amy. You've got lots of time for that. Besides, you don't want someone like me to be your first. You're a good girl, from a nice family. You deserve to be with someone like you, not trash like me." His voice had turned sharp and bitter as he said this.

Amy shook her head and started to cry. "No," she said softly, "don't you say that. You're the nicest person I've ever known Daryl Dixon. I don't care what you say, I don't care about your family. I want you to be my first…..my family is going to move away, and my grandparents are talking about moving too. They want to go back to where they grew up, in Alabama." She sobbed harder. "So you see, I might not ever see you again. Not until I can come here by myself in a few years. I want you to be my first-you were my first friend, my first kiss, my first secret. I want you to be my first everything," she sniffed quietly and leaned her head against his chest again.

Daryl sighed. It would break his heart if he never saw her again. But he had always known this would happen one day. No matter what Amy said, he knew that he was trash and he didn't belong with her or in her world. She might not see it that way now, but in a few years when she went off to college and met other guys who had money and were smart she would forget about him-or be embarrassed that she'd ever thought in this way about him. But a part of him wanted to be her first, wanted her to be his first. If he couldn't have a life with her, he could at least have that. He thought quietly, rubbing her arm with his hand and with his other he smoothed her tangled curls.

"Okay," he said at last. "But we'll do this my way. Can't no one ever find out." She nodded against his chest. "How soon are you leaving your grandparents' farm?" She sighed.

"I'll be here all summer. It's just now mid June, I won't leave until mid August. School starts back then, and daddy said we wouldn't move until after school started. He has to find us a place to live, and momma has to arrange things with the movers and all that. Granddaddy and gramma won't be moving until after we do, if they agree on everything. Granddaddy doesn't want to leave the farm, but gramma says it's too much for them and she misses her sisters back home. So, we have two months."

Daryl nodded, still thinking. "Do you have an idea of when you want us to do this?" he whispered. His throat had gone dry just thinking about it. He would need a few days at least to make sure he could find a safe place for them to be alone, and to get some protection so he didn't get her pregnant.

"This weekend," she whispered back, "my grandparents have been falling asleep pretty early here lately. They know I stay up and read or watch tv and they trust me. I'll wait until they're good and asleep and slip out and meet you here." She cleared her throat. Now that she was actually planning this, she felt sick to her stomach with nervous anticipation. This had gone much easier than she had imagined. She was surprised he had agreed so quickly. She knew he thought she was pretty, but over the years he had grown very guarded about being touched or anyone being close to him. If she touched him unexpectedly he often flinched or threw his hands up as if he were going to strike her. She didn't dare ask why he acted this way, she had seen the scarring on his back once when she had come to the tree and he'd had his shirt off. He had turned away quickly, angry and embarrassed, and she had played along that she hadn't seen anything and after a while he had calmed down. She had heard his father had a bad temper but she couldn't imagine anyone mean enough to beat their children to the point they left scars. It hurt her to think Daryl had been treated this way. It hurt her every time she thought of Daryl and how he'd had to take care of himself all these years.

Daryl nodded. It was Wednesday now, that gave him a couple of days to get it set up. "Saturday then," he whispered. She nodded. "Meet me here Saturday night around ten. I think I know a place we can go that'll be safe and no one will bother us," he continued. She nodded again. "Ya best not visit here again until Saturday, don't want your grandparents to wonder what you're doing now." She nodded and he helped her to get down out of the tree. He stood at the base of the tree, holding her hips in his hands from having helped her down. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. He felt himself stiffen, and stifled a moan. She turned and started back toward the farm and he leaned his arms against the trunk and put his forehead on his arms, kicking the trunk with his boot. What had he done? He needed to talk to someone, he needed some advice. He knew he was going to go through with this, but he needed to make sure he knew something of what to do so he didn't hurt her or embarrass himself.

Standing up he took a deep breath and started off toward his house. He had to find a way to talk to Merle.


	3. Chapter 3

18 YEARS LATER:

Daryl is working at a local auto body shop and one day as he's riding his bike home after work he passes the old Taylor place and sees a truck parked in the drive and somebody walking around the yard. Maybe they were selling the property after all this time. Libby's grandparents had moved to Alabama a few years after her family had moved to Atlanta. He hadn't seen her again after that summer –her family hadn't come back to the farm to visit before her grandparents had moved. In the intervening time the farm had been rented out to other family members for upkeep. It had been empty now for about a year or so. He'd heard old Mr. Taylor had passed away a few years back and two years ago Mrs. Taylor had passed away. He hadn't seen any of the family the week of the funeral, and assumed the place would finally be put up for sale. He hadn't ever seen a sign in the yard though, or heard any rumors about it being for sale. Probably private sale to another family member. If he'd had any money he would've checked into buying it or renting it. That farm held the only happy memories he'd ever had of this entire place.

His own father had died eight years ago in a nursing home from the years of drinking and neglect. He'd moved into the old ramshackle shack when his father went into the nursing home. It wasn't much, but it was their family's free and clear. He'd set to work gutting it and rebuilding it room by room in his off hours-he had found work through Merle on one of his rare home visits between stretches in jail. A friend of Merle's owned an auto and bike repair shop. Daryl had always been good with his hands, and had quickly caught on to the work. He was paid in cash weekly, and had used the money to fix the shack up slowly. It still wasn't much to look at it, but it was solidly built now, respectable looking instead of looking like the shack it had been. It was a small shotgun style house, living area, kitchen, two bedrooms and bath. He had scavenged parts from abandoned houses in the area, and studied books to learn wiring and plumbing and carpentry as well as seeking advise from his boss's friends who worked in building and construction. It had taken a long time and a lot of hard work –mistakes and start overs, but now it was a decent little house that he was no longer ashamed to call his home. He kept the yard cut and although it didn't have flowers or any fancy shrubbery, it had lots of old shade trees and a small, deep porch he could sit on in the evenings and enjoy the rare breeze. His furniture was mostly cast offs from customers or flea market finds. Again, nothing fancy but clean and well built and serviceable. He had even taken up building furniture-basics like tables and chairs, and had made a little money from this. He had built himself a sturdy rocker he liked to sit in out on the porch in the evenings.

His was a lonely existence, he had no real friends but he liked the solitude and knowing there would be no drunken violent scenes at night was a relief and a balm to his soul. His boss and coworkers teased him occasionally about various female customers of theirs that seemed to be sweet on him, according to them, but he had no interest in dating anyone. He had occasionally had one night stands when he'd been out carousing with his brother on his rare visits home, but these left him ashamed and embarrassed –the women were drunk or high and would've gone with anyone, they weren't necessarily attracted to him. And every time he'd been with anyone, all he could really see was Amy's face and hear Amy's voice from that summer they'd had together. He knew he'd never see her again, but far better to be alone and lonely than to settle for someone he would never really care about and be unhappy like his parents had been.

The next morning as he rode his bike to work, as he passed the old Taylor place he remembered seeing a truck in the driveway the night before. He saw it now as he passed by-an antique actually. It looked to be an old Chevy longbed from the late '70s, early 80's. Those things were tanks, and if a person could keep them running they'd last forever. He saw a lot of trucks like these in farming communities, they were great trucks for hauling hay and feed to the pastures and for knocking around the gravel roads without worrying about potholes or gravel scratching up the paint. It looked to be black or very dark blue. He frowned, wondering who it was that was at the house.

Mid morning he looked up to see that old truck pulling into the shop parking lot. He stopped what he was doing and watched to see who got out. His mouth fell open as a tiny auburn haired woman hopped out of the truck and shut the door. She was short but very curvy, her hair hung down her back in long auburn curls. His throat went dry. There were lots of women with red curly hair, but damn if she didn't look like Amy had. Of course, Amy had been a girl of fifteen last he saw her and this was a full grown very curvy woman. Almost on the plump side, but plump in all the right places. The guy working next to him looked over to where Daryl was staring and let out a low whistle as Amy leaned over looking at the tire, her back to them.

"Damn if her ass ain't just like a Christmas ham," George murmured appreciatively. "Now that's a woman, I like a woman with some meat on her." He whistled softly again. Daryl shot him a sharp look and turned back to watch as she straightened and headed toward the bay they were working in. She had big sunglasses on and he elbowed George before he could make a rude comment about her generous breasts straining against her plain tshirt. He tried to swallow, his throat even more dry. If this was indeed Amy, she had definitely grown up.

She stepped into the shade of the bay and looked around questioningly. As her gaze fell on Daryl, her mouth fell open and he heard her soft gasp of "oh". He started, then walked quickly toward her, twisting the shop rag around in his hands. She looked up at him and he noticed her mouth was still the same even if everything else had changed-plump, moist, pink. He remembered kissing that mouth all that summer, the memory had gotten him through many a bad night since then.

He nodded to her and cleared his throat. "Amy?" he mumbled. She nodded and looked around shyly.

"Hi Daryl. Didn't know you worked here. This your place?" she whispered softly. He had to strain to hear her. Looking at her, he couldn't put his finger on it but he saw immediately something was off about her. She had never been a shy girl, had always been confident in how she moved and spoke. This Amy seemed very uncertain of herself, timid almost.

"Um, no. But I work here. Do ya need to see the owner?" he asked, still studying her closely. She hadn't taken her sunglasses off, and as she turned her head to glance around the shop, he saw what looked to be faint bruising on her cheek. His jaw tightened and his hands clenched. What had happened to her? Who had hurt her?

She turned back to him. "Um, well I just need somebody to take a look at granddaddy's, I mean my truck." He nodded.

"What do you need looked at?" he asked, walking toward the truck as she followed slowly behind.

"Well, no one's driven it in a while and I just needed someone to check it out. Ya know, make sure it's not going to blow up on me or anything," she finished softly, with a sad smile on her face.

"Blow up on ya?" he asked her as he reached in the cab to pop the hood.

"Yeah, well all my cars seem to do that. No matter how often I get the oil changed or whatever else that needs done, they all seem to blow up. Or get wrecked," she trailed off as he leaned over into the engine and started looking at the oil and other fluids. He looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

"mmmmm, well let's check all the fluids, the air filter, gas filter, tires, see if anything needs changing," he muttered as he looked over all the wires and belts. She nodded silently. "It might take a while, do you have anywhere ya need to be? I can give ya a ride or ya can wait in the office there with my boss's wife, Mary." He continued. She folded her arms over her chest protectively and shook her head.

"No, I have nowhere I have to be at. I can wait," and she started off toward the office. He shut the hood and hopped in the cab to start the truck up and pull it into the empty third bay. He wondered how she was able to see over the steering wheel, much less reach the pedals. And it sat up high enough he imagined she'd had to hop up somehow to even get into the truck. He shook his head and set about checking the truck out.

Two hours later he stepped into the small office. Mary raised her eyebrows at him questioningly and glanced back at Amy. She was sitting quietly in a chair, staring down at her hands. He remembered Amy as something of a chatterbox, but people changed. She seemed to have changed a lot though.

He cleared his throat and walked over to her. She glanced up and grimaced. "How bad was it?" her voice barely above a whisper. He sat down in the chair beside her, twisting the shop rag again.

"Not bad at all, just needed new oil, new filters, tires are still good, everything else seems to be good. Those old trucks last forever, hard to put them outta commission unless you total 'em in a wreck," he answered her, watching her closely. She nodded and sighed in relief.

"Well, that'll probly be what'll happen next," she murmured. She stood up and approached the desk where Mary sat. "What do I owe you?" Mary looked over at Daryl and he shook his head, motioning that he'd take care of it. He had the feeling Amy was worried about money, and he could at least help her out this way. Mary smiled.

"Aw, hon, this is a free service for all new customers. Don't worry about it, but if you have any problems bring it back by here and we'll work on it," she finished and waved Amy off. Amy nodded numbly, and turned back to Daryl.

"Thanks again, Daryl. See ya around," and she walked out toward the truck where he'd pulled it out into the parking lot. Daryl followed her out and when he saw her hesitate after she opened the cab door, he quickly stepped up to her and touched her shoulder. She flinched and turned quickly toward him. His heart broke. He knew what that flinching meant. He'd done it himself, even now if someone touched him unexpectedly or came up to him too quickly he had his guard up. It came from being beaten. He recognized now her caution in her movements, her silence as a way of making herself unseen and unheard. His jaw clenched. His beautiful Amy. He had always dreamt of her happy, with a nice husband and cute kids in a beautiful house. Never this.

He put his hands up to show no harm meant and her face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, I don't like folks sneaking up on me either," he said softly, trying to lessen her embarrassment. She nodded slightly and gave a small shrug. "Are ya staying at your grandparents?" he asked. She nodded again, not volunteering any other information. "Would it be okay if I stopped by on my way home tonight after work?" She looked up at him, frowning.

"You live down the road from the farm?" she asked softly. He nodded.

"Yeah, dad passed bout eight years back and I moved in and worked on it. It's nothing fancy, but it's a lot better than it was. All mine, clear and free." He smiled a bit proudly at that. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively again.

"You and your wife must be happy out there, it was always a place with a lot of potential," she murmured.

"Ain't married," he mumbled, "no girlfriend either, just me and a couple of beagles I hunt with." He watched her closely and saw some of the tension go out of her. She seemed to relax a little and smiled a genuine smile this time.

"Well, sure. Stop by if ya want. I was gonna grill some burgers or something later, want me to put some on for ya?" She had uncrossed her arms but was now twisting her hands nervously. He had the urge to lay his hand on hers but resisted it.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Want me to bring something?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"You'll have to bring beer if ya want it, I don't keep any around," she mumbled, flushing red again.

His mouth tightened at this. "Naw, I don't drink any more. Haven't in a long time. Seems it just gets me in trouble and I don't need any trouble like that," he said tersely. She nodded and turned to the cab. "Ya need a boost up?" he offered. She laughed a small laugh and nodded. He placed his hand out and she stepped into it and he boosted her up and into the cab. "Need ta get ya a stepstool if you're gonna insist on driving that around," he said laughing softly. She grinned back at him and started the engine up. It roared to life and she gave him a little wave and headed off back out to the farm. He watched her silently for a minute then headed back into the office.

Mary looked up and smiled at him. "Ain't that the little Taylor girl? I heard she's staying at the old farm out on the gravels." Daryl smirked, nothing went unnoticed in this small town-a fact he both loved and hated.

"Yeah, that's Amy. We used to hang out together when she'd spend the summers at the farm. Haven't seen her in bout twenty years give or take," he mumbled. Mary looked at him closely. His face was slightly pink, and he had a faraway look on his face that she'd never seen. Seems this might be one girl Daryl would think about dating.

"I heard she's had a rough time of it. Divorced, lost a baby, been involved with some rough guys. Heard her family is letting her stay at the farm so she can get herself back on her feet," she continued. Best he heard what was going on before he got involved at all. Daryl shot her a sharp look and grunted and walked back toward the bays. He realized Mary was trying to give him a heads up, but he didn't like the idea of anyone talking about Amy's misfortunes.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, Daryl pulled up into the farm's gravel driveway and parked beside the truck. He could smell hamburgers and hotdogs from the grill out back and he walked around that way. Amy was sitting on a swing glider watching the grill. The sunglasses were off and he could see the fading colors of a black eye. His jaw clenched and he blew out a breath of anger. She looked up quickly and he saw her mouth grimace as she realized he'd seen her eye. She watched him silently, a wariness in her expression that broke his heart again. He sat down in a chair opposite the glider and nodded.

She opened her mouth and he held up his hand. "Amy, I won't ever pry into your business. If you want to tell me anything, and I mean anything, then you tell me. But I won't ask. I'm a private person myself and I respect that in other people. So don't feel like ya gotta explain anything to me-I'm just glad to see ya again after all this time." He looked at her quietly. "I've missed ya. Ya have no idea." He cleared his throat. She nodded and smiled sadly.

"I knew the minute I saw you, that you were the same old Daryl." She sighed softly. "I'm not at all the same girl you knew. I'm a colossal mess up. Can't seem to get anything right-not school, not marriage, not anything." She bowed her head slightly and her hands clasped each other tightly. He felt that she needed to say this, so he remained silent. "I've disappointed everyone over and over. This last guy-I'd gotten to where I felt like I deserved anything bad he did. I didn't resist him when he hit me, didn't fight back. Wound up in the hospital, and even then I wouldn't have left him if my family hadn't stepped in. They pressed charges against him and moved me out of his house. My family held a "meeting", she made air quotes with her hands and gave a short bitter laugh, "and told me I could stay at our grandparents' farm while I got my shit together and all that." She shook her head wearily. "I lay awake at night sometimes and wish he'd killed me," she said softly. Daryl grunted angrily and she wiped her tears from her face. "So, I'm not the girl you knew. I'm damaged goods, more than gently distressed. The black sheep of my family. Be careful about having anything to do with me, some of my soot might rub off on you," she finished softly, not meeting his eyes. His hands clenched in anger. How could her family have done this to her? She had been so sweet, stubborn yes, but kind hearted and caring. What had happened to her parents, her family that they would let this happen to her? He shook his head in anger and disgust.

"Amy," he said softly, willing her to look up at him. When she did, he continued, "I would never think that way of you, I don't care what you've done or what has happened. You're a good woman. I will always think that. Bad things happen, mostly to folks who don't deserve to be treated that way. It's just the way life is." He paused. "You don't think I deserved it when my daddy beat me do you?" she shook her head vehemently. "Or that I deserved to have my momma burn up in a housefire she started?" Amy shook her head vehemently again. "Well then, life is shitty. And innocent folks are usually the ones who get the worst of it. There aren't any happy endings that I've ever seen. Makes life easier to get through if ya don't believe in all that bullshit. Believing in it is what breaks your heart and makes you fall for liars who don't care how bad they hurt you." He knelt down in front of her and laid his hand gently on her twisting hands. "Stop. This is me, Daryl. You don't have to be ashamed or afraid with me. Be who you want to be, however ya want to be." At this Amy started to sob, loud, gut wrenching sobs that sounded like she'd kept them inside for far too long. He pulled her from the swing and sat and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her and rocked her gently as she sobbed.

It took a bit, but she at last started to hiccup and breathe more steadily. She sniffed and he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a shop towel he kept handy. He handed it to her and she blew her nose and attempted to wipe her face. She gave a small unsteady laugh. "I've soaked your shirt and got snot all over you," she whispered, but she sounded less sad. He grunted.

"Snot's not the worst thing I've had on my shirt, Amy," and he hugged her tighter. She sighed tiredly. "Best check your food on the grill, smells like it's burning," he murmured. She jumped up and ran to the grill.

Lifting the lid, smoke poured out. "Oh no," she wailed. Daryl walked over and grimaced. The food was blackened.

"Well, hey, got any peanut butter and jelly," he asked. She laughed and nodded. He waved her into the house while he took the ruined food off the grill and tossed it into the garbage then followed her into the kitchen. Looking around, he saw it hadn't changed all that much from all those years ago. Same big farmhouse kitchen, sturdy oak table with seating for twelve. Same old farmhouse sink and stove and refrigerator. If anyone bought the place they'd spend a fortune updating the place, but he liked it.

Amy got some old chipped everyday plates out and quickly made a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and poured two glasses of milk. They sat at the table together, silently eating their sandwiches. Looking at her, Daryl saw her nose was red, her eyes puffy from crying along with the fading bruises on her face. Even so, to him she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Although he didn't like telling his personal information to anyone, he felt after what Amy had told him he owed her some explanation of what he was doing. He cleared his throat.

"I've been working at the shop now since I was eighteen," he began. She nodded silently. "Guy was a friend of Merle's, Merle helped me get the job," at the mention of Merle's name Amy frowned questioningly. "Merle has been in and out of jail all this time for all kinds of shit. Never anything really serious though-he has some kinda luck that he never gets caught when he's doing something really bad. He goes in for a year or two, gets out and within a year or so he's back in." Daryl shrugged his shoulders wearily. "He stays with me when he's out, when he's not shacked up with some chick he's found or not staying with some new friends he's made," here he snorted. "Don't like him staying with me, but he's my brother. Only blood I have left in this world. I worry bout him when he's in jail, but seems he can't stop getting into trouble and stay out." He spread his hands and shrugged again. Amy nodded in understanding. The men she'd been involved in the last few years could easily have been one of Merle's friends.

"I didn't ever do any drugs, well I smoked pot sometimes, but nothing else," she murmured. "Don't really drink much either. Never could handle it very well," she continued. "Just wanted you to know as bad as I've been, haven't done anything like that," she finished. He nodded.

"Me neither. I mean, I smoked some too but I saw what that other shit did to Merle and his tweaker friends. Wasn't interested. And I wanted to keep my job, didn't want to disappoint my boss. He's taught me a lot, been good to me." Amy nodded again.

"Do ya want another sandwich?" she asked. She started to get up, but he waved her back down and he picked their plates up and deposited them in the sink.

"Naw, don't each much anyway." He leaned against the sink and looked at her. She smiled.

"Remember when we used to lay in your treehouse and watch the stars?" she asked, her cheeks blushing. He smiled slowly and nodded. "Wanna go lay out on the lawn chairs and look at the sky?" she asked eagerly. He realized he'd been there three hours, it was nine o'clock and the sky was slowly changing to night. It was a clear night, it would be a good night for stargazing. He nodded and they stepped back out onto the back patio. They dragged the two chairs a little out into the grass and Amy ran back in and turned out the porch and outbuilding lights. Darkness settled quietly around them as they sat on the chairs they'd pushed together. She reached out her hand and he grasped it. A slight breeze stirred in the trees, and he could faintly smell the flowers from the overgrown gardens.

"I used to lay in whatever backyard I had and look up at the stars," she said quietly, clasping his hand a bit tighter. "I tried to imagine what you were doing, hoped you were happy. Wished I could go back to that summer and be with you again," she paused, and cleared her throat, "that was the last time I was truly happy. I wish we'd never moved away. Wish I'd found a way to come back here after I graduated and found you." He looked over to her, saw she was staring intently up at the sky and saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"I did the same," he murmured. She turned quickly to him, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Really," she whispered.

"I don't lie," he grumbled and squeezed her hand. She smiled and sighed happily.

They held hands and watched the stars and after a while he heard her breathing settle into the slow soft breathing of sleep. He kept his grasp of her hand, and watched her silently as she slept. He didn't know how he gotten this lucky, to have Amy fall into his life again, but he was damned if he was going to lose her again.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl woke with a start. Looking around, he realized he and Amy had slept on the lawnchairs in the yard all night. Judging by the sky, he figured it was four or five in the morning. He'd slept better on the lawn chair than he had in his own bed in years. He looked over and saw that Amy was still sleeping. Best to wake her up and get her inside before he headed home to get ready for work. Didn't want any gossip to start from him going in late. He stood up and stretched then leaned over and gently shook Amy's shoulder. She started awake and sat up quickly, confused until she saw Daryl. Then she smiled and blushed.

"We sleep out here all night?" she mumbled, yawning. He smirked.

"Yeah. I gotta go home and get ready for work now, but if ya want ya can come see me at lunch or I can come see ya when I get off work," he mumbled nervously. He didn't want to crowd her, but he wanted to see her as often as could for the time she was here. He didn't doubt she'd be gone by the end of summer and go back to a life in the city away from here. He felt almost like he had that summer so long ago-desperate for every minute with her to store up memories for when she was gone again. He bit his thumb nervously, watching her.

She smiled up at him, almost the old sweet smile she had had once. "That sounds good. I can make ya something to eat if ya want," she looked more relaxed than she had yesterday.

"That sounds nice. Nothing fancy though, I don't eat a lot and I don't want you to go to any trouble," he mumbled, scuffing his foot. She stood up and grabbed his hand and started to walk him to his bike.

"Don't be silly-it'll give me something to do. I'm kind of at loose ends right now, so I need ta find something to keep me busy," she finished, shrugging and blushing. He nodded and got on the bike and started it up. She watched him drive off, waving a little and then he headed home.

At noon, Daryl looked up and saw Amy crossing the parking lot from her truck with a little basket. It reminded him of the basket she used to bring him food in back at the treehouse. He smiled a small smile at the sight of her. He realized he'd been tense all morning, anxious if she would really show up or not. He shouldn't have doubted her. She'd always kept her word. George and Pete, the other two mechanics, looked over at Daryl and smirked. Before they could make any comments he threw the shop towel down and strode out quickly to meet Amy in the parking lot.

"Hey," he said, taking the basket from her and steering her to the park across the street. He often sat there on one of the benches at lunch to smoke and have some quiet. The shop got pretty noisy sometimes.

They sat at one of the picnic tables and he opened the basket and pulled out some fried chicken, rolls, slaw, and some bottles of water. He looked up at her questioningly. "Ya made this?" he asked, biting into a roll.

"Oh no," she laughed, "I'm not any good at cooking. Remember the burned food last night? That's pretty much par for the course for me. I picked that up at the store on the way here. So you're safe-you won't die of food poisoning today anyway," she smiled. He frowned, not liking to hear her put herself down, but kept quiet.

"Well," he began nervously, "it's Friday. Spect you have some family stuff ta do, or something like that this weekend," he trailed off and bit into the chicken, keeping his eyes on the food. He could feel his face turning pink. He didn't want to rush her, or them, into anything but he also felt that due to their past they could skip some of the getting to know you formalities. It wasn't that he thought he'd have any chance at all in repeating that summer now with her, but he did want to spend as much time as possible with her and he didn't want to waste any of that time playing games. He had always been direct and believed in making his intentions clear as soon as he himself knew them.

Amy glanced at him shyly, turning a pretty pink her own self. "No, I don't have any plans. No family thing-I'm the black sheep remember? Don't wanna contaminate the other family members," and she gave a short bitter laugh. He frowned.

"Where's your family at? Aren't they gonna come check on you?" he grumbled. He didn't like the sound of this already.

She shook her head quickly and shrugged. "mmmm no. Momma and Daddy divorced right after I graduated high school. Daddy's married again, to a woman not much older than me. Momma started drinking, it got pretty bad there for a while. Then she met a nice man when she started going to one of the groups, AA. They got married a few years ago," she paused and Daryl kept chewing, shocked at this news. "Mark is a really nice man, good for Momma. Been really good to us kids too. They live in South Carolina, he has a house on one of the islands off the coast. Daddy and Stacy live in Nashville." She paused. Daryl nodded for her to go on. "Leslie is a nurse in Chicago, married to a doctor and has a couple of kids. Tommy is in the tech business, he and his wife live out in California with their three kids." She paused again. "My grandparents left us a pretty good sum of money, all tied up in a trust and my brother is in charge of it. He deposits some in my account every month, and if I need more I have to call and ask him," she turned red with embarrassment. "It's humiliating, but they decided that I couldn't be trusted with my own money so they fixed it so I can't just have it. They said they were afraid I'd spend it all or give it all to some asshole I was with." Her voice faltered and she looked quietly down at her hands. "They're probably right. I probably would have," and she shrugged. Daryl's jaw clenched and he had to breathe deeply to calm himself down. Jesus, it just got worse and worse.

"Do ya see your family much at all?" he murmured, not wanting to upset her but trying to figure the situation out.

"No," she replied. "Um, when my parents separated I moved out of the house and in with my boyfriend. Jack worked with my dad, he was a few years older than me and my family all liked him. He seemed like a stable guy." She sighed and shrugged again. "But it never felt right to me. I knew I didn't really love him, I just needed a place to stay. Couldn't stand the mess going on at home. Made my momma and sister and brother mad at me. They haven't really ever gotten over it." Daryl's eyebrows raised.

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen, daddy left the summer after I graduated and I moved in with Jack that fall. Hadn't known him very long, but he seemed trustworthy. I didn't plan on staying with him very long, thought I'd get a job and get my own place," her voice faltered again and she frowned in thought. "Seemed like I could just never get my shit together to leave him or go back to school. Didn't work most of the time I was with him, he liked me to be available so I could go with him on business trips or vacation. I just felt like I had no idea what I wanted to do or how to do it."

Daryl nodded, "How long were you together?" he asked. She sighed and thought.

"Four years, almost five. I finally left because I knew he wasn't ever going to marry me. I didn't really want to marry him, but I felt he should at least ask me," she laughed a little. "I know that sounds stupid, but –I don't know, I felt that if he wanted me to stay he should at least ask me to stay permanently, make a commitment." Daryl nodded again. He wanted to punch this guy in the throat.

"So what happened," he coaxed her. She ran her hands through her curls and sighed.

"Well, I took a course in medical assisting, and met a girl there-Moira. And Moira introduced me to a guy she'd known for years. Kurt. He was older, had a stable job, was always talking about how he wanted to meet a nice girl and get married. I moved out of Jack's apartment and in with Moira. Things moved pretty quick with Kurt-I was flattered. Here I'd been with Jack all that time and he wouldn't even discuss marriage and within two weeks of meeting Kurt he went out and bought me a ring and told everyone we were getting married." She paused, biting her lip. Daryl had a feeling this Kurt guy was going to be worse than Jack had been. He started biting at his thumb. He nodded at her to continue. "Well, we planned on getting married the next Christmas, but I got pregnant by Easter, so we moved the date up. He seemed so happy, ran around telling everyone he was going to be a daddy, was just so sweet. Then, the weekend before our wedding, he went out drinking with his friends and when he got home –I had moved in with him when I found out I was pregnant-when he got home he told me he didn't want to marry me. That this was a mistake. He was still in love with someone else and he wanted to be with her." Daryl clenched both his fists and then lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He nodded again, not trusting his voice at this point. He couldn't understand how Amy stayed so calm telling him all this, like she was telling him about something she'd seen on tv or in a movie. It was like she had removed herself from it completely. Maybe that was how she had gotten through it.

"Well, we argued and I cried but he insisted he was calling it all off. The next day I called the minister and the florist and the bakery and cancelled everything. It was just going to be a small thing in the park and then have a little party at his house. I called everyone we'd invited and told them it was cancelled. Moira helped me move my stuff back to her house. I was pretty scared, here I was pregnant and now he had bailed out on me. I hadn't bothered to look for a job since I'd gotten out of school because Kurt had said he would take care of things, and I knew no one would hire a pregnant woman right off the bat." Daryl frowned. Amy looked down and refused to meet his eyes. He saw a tear slip down her cheek.

"Amy, you don't have ta tell me anymore. I can see it's upsetting ya," he whispered. She shook her head.

"No, I want to tell ya," she whispered, "ya need to see how I really am." She cleared her throat. "I….I took a bunch of pills. I just wanted to never wake up again. I cut my wrists too, I wanted to be make sure I didn't wake up." Here Daryl reached over and grabbed Amy's hand fiercely.

"Don't you ever do that again," he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "promise me Amy. Promise me you won't," he gripped her hands almost painfully. Amy looked at him silently and nodded. "Say it, dammit. Say you promise," he whispered.

"I promise," she replied softly.

"Did ya lose the baby?" he asked softly. She nodded and peered at him sadly. "That wasn't your fault. That bastard was the cause of that. Don't blame yourself for that. I don't." He squeezed her hands tightly again.

"It was my fault," she began and he cut her off.

"No dammit. Who told ya it was your fault? Your family, right?" and here she nodded again. He swore softly under his breath and glared at her. "Your damn family seems to have done nothing for you, just hurt you. Don't you believe what they say about you. You're a good person, always have been." He sighed exasperatedly and swore again. When he looked at her he saw he had made her anxious. He relaxed his grip on her hands and tried to smile. She relaxed a bit at that. "Look, I gotta go back to work here in a minute. If ya want, I'll come by after work and we can do something," he continued. She nodded at this. "Good, then walk me back to the shop and plan on my coming by around six, okay?" She smiled at him and they cleared up the table and walked back to the shop. He helped her into the cab of the truck and waved her off as she headed back to the farm. He wanted to punch something. He had never expected any good from the world, he'd learned not to at a young age. But Amy, Amy had had a far better start in life than he had had, how had she had so many bad things happen to her? She was too trusting, always had been. And people took advantage of that. Well, however much time he had with her he was going to make damn sure no one hurt her while he had anything to say about it.


	6. Chapter 6

After work, Daryl pulled up into the gravel driveway and parked by the truck again. Heading out back, he saw Amy sitting on the glider again. She looked more relaxed than she had yesterday or even this afternoon. Probably had needed to get all that off her chest for a long time, and he was glad she had trusted him enough to confide in him. She smiled up at him as he strode toward her.

"How'd ya like a ride on my bike? Take ya down to my place and show ya around," he asked. She hopped up excitedly.

"Oh yes! I'd love a ride on your bike!" she exclaimed. She followed him out to the bike and he placed the helmet on her and helped her on. As he got on he told her to hang on tight to him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. He smiled and started the bike up and headed down toward his house.

Amy voiced her approval over and over as he gave her a tour of the yard and the house, oohing and ahing over all the work he had done, impressed with what he taught himself and acknowledging the hard work that had gone in to improving the place.

"it suits ya," she said as they sat on the porch, he on the rail of the porch, she in the rocker facing him.

He smirked at her. "Oh yeah?" he teased. She blushed.

"yep, it's exactly what it looks like-sturdy, safe, homey without being fancy or pretending to be fancy."

Daryl blushed at that and grunted. They sat in companionable silence for a while, silently studying each other when each thought the other wasn't looking. "Um, ya hungry?" he at last asked.

"mmmm, yeah a little," she murmured.

"Well, hop up. I'll take ya to a place I know. It's a ways out in the country, old greasy spoon kinda place, but they have the best fried catfish anywhere." She nodded and they got back on the bike and headed out to the place-little more than a shack out in a cottonfield, but the smells coming from it were mouth watering and there seemed to be a little line of people so apparently the food was good. The line moved quickly and after a short wait they found themselves seated in a room with slanting floors and the air was thick with the smoke from the fryers. There weren't very many tables, but what tables there were were steadily emptied and refilled with hungry people ordering massive plates of catfish, hushpuppies, fries, slaw and other side dishes.

They ate silently, enjoying each other's company and continued their silent study of each other. Amy realized anew how much she had missed Daryl, how much she had missed having somebody to trust as implicitly as she had trusted him all those years ago. She didn't doubt that she could still trust him as completely as she had then. He hadn't changed-he was still stable and reliable and safe. She felt more at peace in the last two days than she'd felt in many years.

For his part, Daryl watched Amy quietly, drinking in her presence and wishing time would stop so he could be with her like this always. It hurt him to look at her, and think of all the years between the last time he'd seen her and now and how those years had treated both of them. He sighed sadly, and then shook himself. No sense dwelling on painful things-like the thought of her going away in a few months to never be seen again. Best to enjoy her presence now, save the memories up for the future.

When they finished eating, they hopped back on the bike and he took her home. He walked her to the kitchen door and they stood in the doorway looking at each other. He cleared his throat and nodded at her. "Best let ya get some rest. Ya want me to come over tomorrow?" he winced at how anxious he sounded, like he was seventeen again. But Amy smiled and nodded.

"Yes," she said a little breathlessly. The light breeze lifted her curls slightly, and he reached out to smooth them down. He caught the light scent of vanilla, almost like the scent of that old tanning lotion she'd put on when they went swimming. The memory of them swimming at that old swimming hole made him tense up, and he backed away from her hastily. He didn't want her to see how the memory had affected him. Didn't know if she'd remember things the way he did. She looked at him questioningly. "What's wrong?" she asked. He shook his head and shrugged. Her eyes widened as she caught the scent of her own perfume. She realized it smelled like tanning lotion, that's why she liked it and wore it. It had always reminded her of swimming. And thinking of swimming, her thoughts turned to that summer years ago and the nights they had gone swimming at that old swimming hole. She gazed at him steadily, and he blushed even deeper.

Looking up at her silence, he saw she was remembering the same thing he was. He bit his lip and moved away from her in confusion. "Wait, Daryl," she said softly. He looked over at her, trying to hide his discomfort. "is that old swimming hole still there? Do people still swim there?" she said softly. He nodded slowly, his throat too dry to make a sound now. "Think we can go swimming there, tomorrow maybe?" she asked softly. He looked up at her and gazed at her steadily. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? He knew if they went to that swimming hole, he would be tempted to be with her in every way that he had been with her then.

"Ya sure ya wanna go swimming in that old place?" he asked softly, holding his breath.

"Yes," she murmured. "I want to. Like we used to. Spend the day there maybe," she finished hesitantly.

He grunted. "kay then, what time ya wanna head out?" He snuck a look at her and his heart felt like someone had squeezed it. He felt just like he had that summer, every time he'd seen her. Light headed, feeling like he couldn't breathe. He remembered that first time they'd kissed at the swimming hole, the night they'd decided would be the night they would sleep together the first time. The air had seemed to be full of static electricity, each time they'd touched they'd each felt a small jolt like a small electrical shock. And the first time they'd kissed, it was as if a bolt of lightening had hit them. They had fallen sideways, clasping each other frantically as if for dear life and found themselves kneeling in a bed of moss clutched tightly to each other. He didn't think anyone could've pried them apart if they had happened upon them. He cleared his throat again and stepped back another step. If he didn't leave now, he would find himself kissing her as desperately as he had then.

She looked at him, seeing in his movements that his mind was the same place hers was-that very first time at the swimming hole. Her face flushed, seeing the reaction his body had to that memory. She knew her own reaction was just as intense. She felt a humming from deep within her, remembered that electrical shock they'd felt that first time they'd kissed. She had never felt that with anyone else in all these years, and wondered if they would feel it again. She wanted to find out right now, but knew it would be better to wait. They both needed another night to think about this so they didn't rush into anything and hurt each other. She sighed and forced herself to stay clear of him.

"How bout two?" she asked. She wanted to go right now, her pulse was racing frantically and she knew she would never get any sleep tonight or be able to sit still tomorrow until he arrived. He frowned then nodded.

"kay, two it is," he replied gruffly, then turned and strode off toward his bike. She stayed on the stoop until she heard the bike start and head down the gravel, then went in and locked up. This was going to be a long night, but she smiled happily and went up the stairs to lie in bed and think about all those nights they'd spent at the swimming hole the summer she'd been fifteen.


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl rode up the gravel driveway at two that afternoon. He'd gotten no sleep all night, tossing and turning, thinking about that summer long ago and what might happen now. He was jittery with nerves, fidgeting with his hands as he walked up to the back door. Amy sat on the swing, already waiting for him. Peering at her through his sunglasses, Daryl could see she was as high strung and on edge as he was.

She stood up and walked over to him quickly, as if by hurrying she could prevent either of them from changing their minds. He turned back and they strode wordlessly toward the bike. A quick glance sideways showed him she carried nothing with her. She was dressed in jean shorts and an old faded t shirt and tennis shoes. He couldn't tell if she had a swimsuit on under her clothes, and he bit his lip at the thought of her not having one on. He himself was in his faded, torn jeans and an old t shirt he'd cut the arms off of and his boots. He didn't own a pair of shorts, or a bathing suit for that matter. If he ever went swimming, and he hadn't in a very long time, he skinny dipped and he was alone. He didn't like baring his back to anyone, and he knew if he had gone swimming with anyone they would have bitched at him to take his shirt off. He didn't have the patience for that.

He helped her onto the bike and then got on and started the bike up. The old swimming hole was down a gravel road just down the road. Actually, it was down the gravel road, then you had to walk along the railroad tracks about a quarter mile until you came to an overgrown dirt path. You followed that a couple of yards and it opened up to the swimming hole. It was actually an overgrown stream that had large rocks to lie on and on one side there was a cascade of water plunging into the pool of water that fed into the stream-a miniature waterfall that he remembered them sitting in sometimes. The water wasn't all that deep at first, but as you made your way past the moss covered rocky outcroppings the bottom dropped out and if you weren't careful or didn't know better you'd be plunged into the ice cold water of the pool like area by the falls. He remembered the smell vividly-water-saturated air, moss, flowers-it smelled green, of pine from the trees. The canopy of trees along the banks dappled the water with shadows. It had felt to him that they were all alone in the world, and although he knew kids went swimming there pretty much every day, at night it had seemed to be a secret place just for them.

He parked the bike under some trees near the path along the tracks. He used some branches to camouflage the bike from anyone passing by, although he doubted anyone came out here much anymore. They'd built a public pool in town about ten years ago and he bet most of the kids went there now instead of to the swimming hole. He bit his lip, hoping no one would be there today.

He looked over at Amy and saw her chest and face were flushed a bright pink. Her eyes were wide and had an almost startled look in them. Her mouth was moist and pink and open just a bit, as if she were having trouble breathing. He nodded to her and held his hand out for her to hold while they walked along the tracks.

They tread the rock strewn path slowly, carefully picking their way along. Daryl didn't think any trains had been along these tracks in years, but he didn't want to take any chances walking on the actual tracks. As he walked along, he peered carefully at the brush along the path for the sidepath leading to the hole. It had been years since he'd been here, for all he knew the path was grown over and he'd miss it. Then he heard the faint sound of water droplets splattering against rocks and gurgle and rush of the stream. He pushed some of the foliage aside and saw the path, barely more than a thin track now. The path was overgrown with vines and branches and he held it out of the way carefully as Amy followed him hesitantly along the track.

They stepped out onto the bank of the stream. The sun was partially obscured by the thick canopy of leaves of the trees surrounding the water. It was even more shadowy than he'd remembered. He could feel the warmth of the sun and then the cool moist air of the shadows as the water raced along and splashed against the mossy rocks. Daryl looked over at Amy and she shivered, whether from the cool breeze or nerves he couldn't tell. He himself felt his skin raise up in goosebumps and his heart thumped rapidly in his chest.

Amy quickly pulled her shoes off and trotted toward the water. As she waded in, she gasped at the shock of the ice cold water splashing up over her feet and onto her legs. She stopped and turned toward Daryl. "Aren't ya coming in?" she asked. She shivered again, and he could clearly see her nipples taut against her tshirt. He felt himself stiffening in response. He nodded quickly and pulled his boots off, then slowly peeled his jeans off revealing his boxer briefs. Thankfully his shirt was long enough to conceal at least for now the effect she was having on him. She turned away and waded further into the water. He could feel the pebbles against the soles of his feet as he waded in, and felt the resistance of the water as he waded forward. He could feel the cool mist on his skin. He opened his mouth to tell Amy to be careful, she was getting close to the dropoff when she suddenly plunged soundlessly under water. He tried to run toward her, but his feet slipped on the wet rocks on the streambed and he plunged into the water completely. The cold knocked the breath out of him, and he frantically tried to stand up to see where Amy was. As he leaned on his knees to catch his breath, he heard Amy's voice. He looked up and she was in the deepest part of the pool, treading water and smiling. He wiped his hair out of his face and sighed.

"Amy!" he yelled, fear making his voice rougher than he'd intended. She frowned and swam toward him.

"I slipped," she explained. "After that first shock though the water feels pretty good," she finished, smiling up at him. He grimaced.

"I forgot you swim like a damn fish," he snapped at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, and the unexpectedness of this forced a short laugh from him. He waded toward her, careful to feel for the drop off. Then he dove in toward her.

He surfaced right in front of her and whistled at the chill of the water. She laughed at him and he smiled back. They tread water for a bit, enjoying the solitude and peace of the moment. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here," Amy whispered. "We're lucky we have this to ourselves today," she murmured. Daryl nodded and swam toward the small waterfall to sit on one of the outcroppings directly in the sunlight. He pulled himself up on the rock and sat there watching Amy swim and splash, drinking in her enjoyment. As he looked around, he found himself remembering again all those nights they'd snuck down here. They'd brought pillows and blankets the first time and found a dry place under some trees to hide them in for their subsequent visits. They usually swam for just a little while then bedded down on the blankets on the bank nearest the waterfall-over here to his left. There they would kiss and talk and make love until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes Amy had fallen asleep and Daryl would lie awake watching her, willing himself to stay awake so he could get her home safely before anyone saw that she was missing.

He saw Amy must have been thinking the same thing, as she climbed up the bank to sit on that very spot he'd been looking at. The sunlight dappled down through the leaves, making the droplets of water on her skin glint. He waded over to her and sat down beside her on the grass. She looked over at him silently, biting her lip. He cleared his throat nervously. Before he could say anything, Amy sidled over to him and swung her leg over his legs and straddled his lap. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he could feel her trembling. The touch of her skin on his made his skin tingle-that tingle he had always felt at her touch. He placed his hand on her hips and tried to calm her shaking. Instead he felt a tremor start in his limbs matching hers. She leaned in to kiss him, and he lost his balance and they both fell sideways onto the mossy bank. Amy gasped and clutched his shirt in her hands feverishly as their mouths met.

Their kiss was not gentle, it was a frantic crushing of their lips as they desperately pressed themselves against each other as tightly as possible. They rolled and Daryl leaned over Amy and held her wrists over her head and kissed her neck as his other hand ran down her side. She shivered, and he heard her teeth chatter. He knew it wasn't cold that was causing this-he himself was shivering uncontrollably. Waves of heat and cold swept over him as he kissed her neck and the swell of her breast. He roughly pulled her shirt off over her head and threw it to the side. She wore no bra, and the feel of her bare breast against his hand caused her to moan and arch up against him. He bent his head to her breasts, kissing and sucking as his hands cupped her hips. She moaned again and clutched the moss beneath her hands. He pulled her jeans down and threw them to the side, noting she had worn nothing underneath her shorts. Kneeling between her legs, his hands on her breasts, he could feel how moist and warm she was as she ground herself onto his knee agitatedly.

Daryl sat up and hastily pulled his boxers off and then knelt down again between Amy's legs. She stared up at him, an almost dazed look in her eyes, panting. "Take your shirt off, I want to feel your skin against mine," she whispered huskily. Daryl hesitated just slightly, then yanked it off and threw it to the side. Amy reached for his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her until every inch of their skin was touching, breast to chest, hips to hips. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck hungrily.

"Amy. Amy" he moaned. The smell of her skin, the feel of her soft breasts and legs, the sound of her moans, the taste of her mouth as they kissed-he felt as if he were falling, had no balance, no gravity, no bearings on reality.

She lifted her hips to him and he easily slid into her. He sheathed himself his full length and she gasped at the feel of him inside of her. They began to move together, rapidly settling into a hectic rhythm. It seemed he couldn't get far enough inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as if to pull him to her ever closer. He clutched her shoulders, as if he were a drowning man clinging for dear life. She placed her hands on his hips as if to urge him to plunge deeper inside her.

He realized they were both moaning loudly, sounding almost deranged in the volume and depth. He felt her suddenly clench on the inside and she arched up against him. As she did so he felt himself start to spasm and felt as if his life's blood was flowing out of him. He legs felt like jelly, and he wasn't sure how he was still able to keep from collapsing onto her.

When they came to a rest, each felt tiny ripples of emotion ripple across their skin for moments afterward. Daryl rolled over to his back and tried to steady his breathing. Amy looked over at him, her face flushed and her breathing rapid. He felt too unsteady to talk or move. He wiped his hair from his face and breathed deeply in and out. Amy rolled onto her side and placed her hand on his chest.

"You're the only one it's ever been like this with," she whispered. Daryl watched her carefully. "Honest. I've never been with anyone who made me feel like you do. Today was just like that summer. I always felt like someone had stuck my hand in some giant electrical outlet whenever you touched me, whenever we were together like this. Never felt that with anyone else," she finished quietly. Daryl placed his hand over hers and nodded.

"I know. Same for me," he murmured. Amy pressed against his side and he folded her against him, laying her head on his shoulder, gently smoothing her curls.

"When I'm with you, I think of all those old words they use in those romance novels. No one uses them anymore, folks think they're melodramatic and silly. But I've always felt sad people don't use them anymore. Because they perfectly describe how I feel about you," she whispered.

"What words are those?" Daryl asked quietly.

"Beguiled, bewitched, enamored, enraptured, inflamed, intoxicated, smitten, spellbound, besotted, possessed," she whispered.

Daryl smiled. "Ya been thinking about this a lot huh? That's quite a list," he teased and pulled lightly on a curl.

Amy half sat up on her elbow and looked down at him with a small smile playing about her lips. "Ya think I'm silly?" she asked shyly.

Daryl shook his head. "No. I don't read like you do, don't know about romance novels and old words. But the words ya said describe exactly how I've always felt about you. How I feel now. How I'll always feel," he whispered. He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Amy, why ya crying?" he whispered softly.

"Because I'm with you. I don't ever want to be apart from you again. I feel like we each have a piece of the other's heart inside us-and that's why we haven't been happy with anyone else all this time, only our two hearts fit together." She looked away for a minute, biting her lip. "I know it sounds stupid. No wonder my family thinks I'm crazy," she mumbled. Daryl pulled her head down onto her chest and kissed her hair softly.

"Well, if you're crazy I'm right there with you," he whispered. She sighed and brushed her lips against his neck and he shivered.


	8. Chapter 8

They swam a bit more, bare skinned, luxuriating in the feel of the cold water against their bare skin. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, they dressed and walked slowly back toward where they'd hidden the bike. They climbed on and headed off toward Daryl's house. They had agreed that they would stop and he'd feed and water the beagles, then they'd head to the farm where Daryl would spend the night.

They pulled up into the little drive of Daryl's house and his heart sank immediately. On the porch sat Merle, smoking and drinking a beer. He stifled a groan and helped Amy off the bike. "Stay here," he whispered. He walked slowly toward the porch, glaring at Merle. Merle smiled one of his shit eating insincere grins and waved at Amy.

"Well hey there baby brother!" he shouted. He was already well on his way to being drunk. Daryl sighed.

"Hey Merle," he grumbled. Merle stood up and swayed, then grabbed Daryl around the shoulders roughly trying to get him in a headlock. Daryl shook him off roughly and stepped back in a defensive stance.

"Ain't ya glad to see me baby brother?" he rasped. He glanced over at Amy and winked. "Or ya too busy to give me the time of day?" he snickered.

Daryl shook his head impatiently. "What do ya want Merle?" he snapped. Merle made a mocking gesture at Amy and Daryl.

"Well well, I guess ya have been too busy ta think of me," he began belligerently. "Guess ya haven't heard the news lately," he grumbled.

Daryl shook his head again. Amy saw him start to bite his thumb in agitation. "I don't know what you're talkin' bout Merle. Just spit it out," he said disgustedly.

"I'm talkin' bout I got out early on account of the virus," Merle swayed again and fell into the rocker.

Daryl looked over at Amy and frowned. "What the hell are ya talking about Merle?" he snapped again.

Merle frowned back, confusion on his face. "Ya aren't playin' are ya baby brother?" he asked querulously.

"No, dammit Merle, I'm not. What the hell are ya talking about?" he spat on in frustration.

Merle sighed. "it's on the tv. There's some virus, supposedly spreading through all the big cities," he began.

Amy looked at him sharply. "Merle," she said as she stepped closer to the porch, "are you saying there's a flu epidemic?" This made no sense to her, flu didn't happen in the summer.

"Who the fuck are you?" Merle slurred. He looked from Daryl to Amy uncertainly.

"Never mind," Daryl growled, "just tell us what the hell you're going on about," he snapped again.

"Go turn the tv on. They can tell ya better than I can," Merle mumbled. He was starting to slump in the chair.

Daryl snorted in disgust and shook his head. "I'm gonna go water and feed the dogs. You stay over there by the bike. He can sleep on the damn porch, we'll go to your place so we don't have to deal with his shit all night," and Daryl stalked off toward the back yard where he had a pen with shade and water and food for the dogs.

Amy stayed by the bike, watching Merle cautiously. She was anxious to get back home and look at the news to see what Merle was talking about.

Twenty minutes later Daryl pulled the bike in beside Amy's truck and they hurried inside. Amy grabbed some bottled water as Daryl turned the tv on one of the local channels. Amy sank down beside him, her eyes riveted on the scene before them. The tv showed scenes of panic and chaos, looting and burning in D.C., New York and Boston. The announcer said the virus had erupted into an epidemic over the last seventy-two hours. So far only major cities had experienced power outages, looting and damage to buildings. A few cities on the West Coast were starting to turn patients away from hospitals, setting up makeshift quarantine areas. The officials were of course telling folks not to panic, not to try to come into the cities, to stay put where they were and wait for instructions.

Daryl turned the channel to one of the twenty-four hour news channels and they watched in growing horror as the scenes repeated in cities all over the world-Moscow, Paris, Prague, London, Tehran, Jerusalem, any country that you could name had people panicking and rioting, looting and burning. Amy got her laptop out and powered it up. "Let's see what this virus is, and how it started," she whispered. Normally her internet service was exceptionally speedy, tonight it was taking a long time to connect and for any page to open up. Finally she was able to type into the search bar the questions she wanted answered.

Apparently everybody else and their brother was trying to access the same information. Page after page showed variations of her question with variations of the same answer. The virus was a part of a biological warfare experiment that had somehow gotten airborne and rapidly spread across every continent. The first victims had been quarantined and kept secret while the government tried to find a way to stop the spread of the virus or find a cure. This was two months ago. Amy frowned at Daryl.

"Two months ago this shit started, and no one told anyone what was going on. Now it's spread like crazy everywhere, and people are panicking and rightfully so. No one's giving any information out. All it says here is that it's airborne, that anyone can catch it, no one knows how to stop it. We're all supposed to stay in our houses and not panic and wait for somebody in charge to tell us what to do," she snorted in disgust.

"Well, ya used to work in doctor's offices right?" Daryl mumbled. "Do you remember ever reading anything about this stuff?" Amy thought a minute and nodded slowly.

"Well, it wasn't exactly about this but we had classes on biological and chemical accidents. How to prepare for patients involved in that sort of thing. We wouldn't expect anyone at the clinic, but if this happened we'd be expected to report to the hospital to help out in any way we could. I know some of the guys that worked at the hospital were into all that doomsday prepping shit, and they insisted on keeping survival kits packed and ready at their homes and in their vehicles-kinda like some folks keep hurricane or tornado kits ready." Daryl nodded.

"What all was in those kits?" he asked, thinking rapidly. They could put something together and prepare themselves in case they had to leave. Until then they would sit tight at the farm and watch the news.

"The usual. Kinda like a camping kit-first aid stuff, water, nonperishable food, matches, sewing kit, extra blankets and linens, changes of clothes. Important paperwork like birth certificates, passports, driver licenses, insurance and medication information." She paused to think. "I think that's it. Of course some guys had gotten really serious and a few of them had built safe rooms or shelters underground-like storm shelters or those old bomb shelters-stocked them with enough food and stuff for months." She sat and thought silently.

"Well, how bout we do this?" Daryl asked, "how bout we put together some stuff now, put it where we can get at it quick. Make sure everything outside is secured, make sure the house is secured. Kinda like a tornado is coming but we have advance notice. Then we wait and see what the tv says tomorrow." Amy nodded in agreement. "First though I want to go back and check on Merle, get him inside the house and lock it up, maybe leave him the bike so he has some kind of vehicle, that okay with you?" Amy nodded again and they headed out to Daryl's house, Amy following Daryl in her truck.

It took both of them to carry Merle in to the couch and get him settled. Daryl scrawled a hasty note for Merle, made sure the house was locked up and left the bike keys with the note where Merle would see it. He worried what to do about the dogs, but decided they'd be okay for now. He double checked their food and water and then he and Amy went back to her house in the truck. He pulled the truck to the back as close as possible to the back door then they went inside and locked up.


	9. Chapter 9

They set about gathering items for the kit, and set them near the back door. Daryl turned all the outside lights on and checked again to be sure all the doors and windows were secure. While they'd been at his house, Daryl had gathered up his guns and bow and brought them along with him as well as most of his ammunition. He spent the next few hours cleaning and loading the guns, double checking his bow and the bolts for it. They kept the tv on, monitoring the news channels. As the night wore on, it seemed more of the bigger cities were reporting widespread panic and chaos. So far nothing had been reported from any of the smaller cities or rural areas.

Daryl glanced over at Amy and saw that she was curled up on her end of the couch, eyes closed, small frown crinkling her forehead. He reached over and touched her hip lightly. She started awake. "Hey, Ames. Go on up to bed, I'll keep an eye on the news." Daryl patted her hip.

"No," she whispered huskily. "Either we both stay down here, or we both go upstairs. I think we should both go upstairs and get some sleep, we might not get too many more nights to sleep in a bed." She stared seriously at him. He knew he should stay down here, keep watching the news but he had a feeling she was right.

"How bout we compromise?" he asked, "we fix up a pallet down here. That way we can keep an eye on things and still get some rest," he coaxed. To his surprise, she gave in quickly and ran upstairs to drag sheets and pillows and blankets downstairs. He looked at her in surprise at the blankets. It was summer, and although she had the air conditioning on it wasn't that cold in the house.

She saw him looking at the blankets and shrugged. "we don't know how long we're going to have power. I'm turning the air down because I'm going to enjoy the cold air while I can." And she sauntered off to the thermostat. Daryl smirked.

They turned the sound down and lay wrapped up together, silently watching the scenes on the tv. "I feel like we're watching some old horror movie," she murmured at one point. Daryl had nodded and pressed her closer. Later they had made love again, slowly, long lingering kisses and touches. It was just as intense as it had been earlier that day. They lay side by side afterwards, not wanting to break contact with each other. Daryl stroked her curls over and over and Amy stretched languidly against him.

"You act like a cat that's getting petted," he laughed softly.

"I like your hands on mine," she replied, and made a sound of purring against his neck. He laughed again.

"I guess that's good. I plan on having my hands on you a lot from now on," he mumbled, "if that's okay with you," he added hastily.

Amy raised up on her elbow and gazed at him. "I think we both can count on that Daryl Dixon." He snorted and pulled a curl lightly. She settled against his shoulder, her arm across his chest and he placed his hand on her smaller one. She fell asleep to the feel of his finger softly rubbing over and over her hand.


End file.
